


Enticed

by fyreyantics



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blasphemy, Car Accidents, Come Eating, Demon Peter Parker, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, M/M, Religious Guilt, Religious Quentin Beck, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22444699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyreyantics/pseuds/fyreyantics
Summary: Quentin Beck is a religious man but he'd be hard-pressed to say he believed in angels - that is, until a young man named Peter rescues him from the wreck of a car crash. He is sure the boy is his personal angel...entirely unaware that he is anything but.
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 17
Kudos: 107





	Enticed

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this [moodboard post](https://satansterio.tumblr.com/post/190174578004/quentin-beckpeter-parker) by satansterio. Thank you for letting me write this.
> 
> Note: homosexuality isn't a sin to Quentin, but sex outside of marriage is.

Quentin was hardly one to believe in angels but when he woke to see the boy kneeling at his bedside in solemn prayer it was hard to believe anything but. Sunlight streamed in from a nearby window, illuminating his features and only serving to cement the idea of the boy's divinity. His brown lashes fluttered against his smooth skin as he opened his eyes. The angel smiled sweetly, getting to his feet.

"You're awake," he said softly, his tender voice washing over Quentin, soothing him.

Quentin quirked a smile. "As you can see," he said with a gesture of his hand. He made to sit up, but as he tried a sharp pain flared in his neck.

A look of worry took over Peter's expression. He rushed forward and settled Quentin back. "You have whiplash - that's what the doctors said. From the car accident. You remember, right?"

Of course he remembered. He'd been on his way back from church. Every Tuesday night a group from the congregation met to discuss church matters and whatever bible studies they'd chosen for that week. One member - who had joined the church barely a month ago - had gotten on Quentin's nerves. His name was Tony and all he seemed to do was continually shut Quentin down every time he contributed to the conversation with his smug debonair attitude. Everyone acted like he was amazing - the women especially, much to Quentin's disgust. But Tony was arrogant and proud and base. Quentin had been so caught up in the rage he'd suppressed for all of the two hour meeting that he had grown careless. Too late he tried to swerve in turning the corner, and he crashed into a tree several feet from the road and into the forest.

Alone in the quiet, his body aching, a feeling of hopelessness set in. He closed his eyes and prayed. Almost at once his angel arrived. Initially a dark shadowy figure, when he stepped forward the moonlight shone down, illuminating his heavenly face. His beauty, his nobility, dazzled Quentin as he sat unmoving. Kind eyes and a tender touch healed Quentin's heart from his own wrath and anger, and he thanked God for this blessing as the boy called for an ambulance.

"Yes, I remember," Quentin said, coming back to the present. "I remember you saving me."

The boy ducked his gaze. "I wouldn't say that. I was just in the right place at the right time, you know?"

Quentin watched him pour a glass of water from the plastic pitcher by his bed, the boy's hands perfectly in control of every movement.

"I'm Peter, by the way," the boy said as he handed over the glass.

His angel had a name. Peter. Quentin considered the name as he took the glass. One of the twelve apostles who walked with Christ. He began to drink, only then realising just how thirsty he was, and finished the glass all in one. "Quentin," he replied.

"Quentin Beck." Seeing Quentin's surprise, Peter pointed at the clipboard hanging from the side of the bed. "I read your medical sheet. Sorry. That's a bit stalkerish, isn't it?" Peter scratched his nose.

Quentin's lips twitched to a smile. "No, that's fine. Must have been boring waiting for me to wake up."

Peter shrugged. "I didn't mind."

Of course you didn't, Quentin thought. You're my angel.

***

Thankfully Quentin's injuries hadn't been too bad. Whiplash, a severely sprained ankle, and some cuts and bruises. The ankle was the worst of it all, making it difficult to walk to the point where the first couple of days he had to use crutches.

Peter stayed dutifully by his side. He never said why, but he didn't have to. Quentin knew Peter was there to protect him.

A few days later members of the church came to drop off a bible for Quentin and perform a faith healing. They all stood around Quentin's bed, eyes closed and speaking in tongues. They all took turns speaking prayers and laying their hands on him. Quentin tried to keep at bay his distaste when it was Tony's turn.

"Lord God, Jesus Christ, heal this man of his injuries. Make short his pain and bring him back to us - to church again." Tony switched back to speaking in tongues, everyone murmuring an amen.

Quentin could feel the presence of the Lord - the peace and calm that could only come from Jesus' love. It was a blessed relief amidst the dullness of the hospital wing.

Once they finished, all the members softly began to cease their speaking in tongues. They all opened their eyes and smiled, giving Quentin a soft pat on his upper arm as they said their farewells and well-wishes. Quentin watched them all leave before making to pick up the Bible by his side. Pausing, he noticed Tony hanging around, his hands in his pockets and deep in thought. He faced towards the door, but turned to Quentin after a moment.

"Something's off," Tony finally said.

Quentin raised his eyebrows. "Pardon?"

"Just a feeling." Tony then shrugged, but his shoulders didn't relax when he lowered them. He looked at Quentin inquisitively. "Who did you say found you?"

Quentin hadn't said. He knew they wouldn't understand. They wouldn't believe Peter was his angel. Tony in particular would probably laugh at him, make fun of him, and say Quentin only thought that because Peter was good-looking - which had nothing to do with it. His angel was pure and kind, and Quentin could never deny a gift from God.

"Someone living nearby," Quentin said evasively.

Tony frowned. "But you crashed in the middle of the woods."

"And someone lived there. Is that difficult to believe?"

Tony made a thoughtful noise. He waved his hand dismissively. "Sure. Well, I'll be praying for you."

"Great."

Tony gave a small wave and left the room. Quentin clenched his jaw then scoffed. Tony always had to pretend to be better than everyone else. Showing off, as usual. Pretending he had some special connection to God where he could just 'sense' things.

Less than half an hour later and Peter returned. His gentle smile soon melted away Quentin's bad mood.

"That was your church group, huh?" Peter asked. He edged close, bandages in hand. His angel had taken to redressing the deep graze on Quentin's face himself, taking over from the nurses.

Quentin gazed at his angel's face as he dabbed gently at Quentin's wound. Peter paused, then thoughtfully considered the area, before dabbing again. Soft strands of brown hair fell against the boy's skin, his brow furrowed ever-so-slightly in concentration. Peter's lips, so often quirked into a soft smile or a heart-warming grin, were held in a neutral position. Quentin marveled at the light pink, and how plush the boy's bottom lip looked.

Guiltily, Quentin averted his gaze. "Yes. They dropped off a Bible for me."

"Oh, cool," Peter commented, finishing up. With a delicate touch, Peter's fingers applied the new bandage, leaving a subtle yet pleasant tingle on Quentin's skin. "I guess that means we can read it together."

"Yeah?" Quentin eyed Peter hopefully as Peter secured the bandage in place.

He turned to Quentin and smiled shyly. He tilted his head before saying, "If it's alright with you."

"I'd be honoured."

His angel beamed.

***

The pair of them passed their time reading together. Quentin pointed out his favourite passages, telling Peter why in particular he found them compelling and insightful. Peter nodded along, obviously impressed. He'd tell Quentin how he'd never thought about particular verses like that, how Quentin should lead the bible study group, or even start preaching. It was gratifying to know an angel agreed with him on something Quentin had known in his heart for a long time. He was destined for big things.

"I heard the nurses say you're going home soon," Peter said one day. He looked down at the ground, a little sad.

"I can walk now. There's no reason for me to stay." Quentin smiled.

"I don't want you to go." Peter looked up with wide eyes, eyelashes fluttering and lips pressed together. "I want to keep helping you. I..."

Quentin's heart skipped a beat. "Yes?"

"I like helping you. It's selfish but...can I take care of you?"

Warmth flooded Quentin's veins, settling to an unnamed desire in his chest.

"Of course. I'd love that."

***

Peter helped drive Quentin home. His driving was smooth, fingers curled around the steering wheel and Quentin tried to stop himself from staring.

Quentin's house was just outside of town. To get there they drove past where Quentin had crashed. He remembered Peter lived nearby.

"Do you need to stop at your place?" Quentin asked.

His angel shook his head. "I can do that later. We'll get you sorted first."

Quentin nodded in acquiescence, settling to watch the line of trees at the edge of the forest.

***

Peter came round to help Quentin out of the car.

"Hey, there's no need for that," he told his angel. "I can do this by myself."

"I just want to make sure you're okay," Peter replied, watching Quentin get up onto his healing sprained ankle.

They'd bought food on the way and Peter brought the groceries in. He immediately started putting them away and cleaning up Quentin's kitchen. Quentin watched him, feeling grateful to God for giving him Peter. Peter bent over to put things away in the cupboard and Quentin's stayed watching for a moment too long.

He squeezed his eyes closed.

"Quentin?"

Quentin nearly jumped, surprised at how close Peter was. "Yes?"

"Is there anything you want for dinner? I've got those things we bought, but I don't know what you'd feel like."

"Anything is fine. I trust your judgement."

The corner of Peter's lips twitched, then spread to a wide smile. "Okay."

***

They were spent the next week studying the bible together, as well as watching a few movies and conversing. Peter made a thoroughly good conversation partner. Quentin also messaged a few people and kept in touch with the members of his church group through a group chat. He got a few emails done. His angel was always there, of course - cooking, cleaning, and taking good care of Quentin.

Quentin had gotten sick of the doctor's advice to rest his ankle when he could. He hated being inactive and he was sure his ankle would be fine by now. It was only after the dinner Peter had cooked - spaghetti Bolognese - that he realised how stiff and aching it had become.

"Your ankle's still annoying you, isn't it?" Peter asked as they sat on the couch watching tv.

Peter had probably noticed how odd his gait had been. "It isn't bad."

"I could give you a massage. If you want. I know how to do it."

Quentin blinked. "Uh, sure."

Peter got down onto his knees in front of Quentin and took Quentin's foot in hand. Slowly he rotated circles, his soft fingers firmly massaging around the ankle bone on both sides. Peter glanced up and a traitorous thought crossed Quentin's mind. Peter really did look good on his knees.

Quentin turned away.

"Is your back still sore?"

"What?"

"You're probably a bit tense." Peter let go of Quentin's ankle. "Here, turn around."

Quentin turned to the side and heard Peter take the seat next to him. He could feel the warmth of Peter's body, the close proximity. He swallowed thickly.

"Oh. Uh, I should have said - you'll need to take off your shirt. Sorry."

Quentin removed his shirt over his head. Peter's hands smoothed over Quentin's back, finding knots and kneading them away. The tension slowly eased under Peter's ministrations and Quentin felt like he was melting into his touch. He closed his eyes and let out an appreciative groan.

"Feels good?" Peter said, close to Quentin's ear. A shiver traveled down Quentin's spine. His angel didn’t mean it like that but the baser part of Quentin’s nature didn’t seem to care.

"You're tensing up a bit. Is something wrong?"

"My mind wandered," Quentin replied.

"Oh okay."

Quentin took a deep breath and willed himself to simply appreciate the massage. Peter began making small thoughtful noises, as though struggling with his technique. To Quentin's ears they could be mistaken for something entirely else. He could feel his cock begin stir as uninvited images of Peter came into his mind, eyes closed and mouth agape as those self-same soft sounds spilled from him - those pretty lips, his neck open and bare.

He shuffled out of Peter's grasp.

"That's enough for now," Quentin said, tugging his shirt back on. Getting to his feet he saw Peter on his knees on the couch. "Thank you, Peter. " He smiled stiffly, feeling a little guilty at the confused look on Peter’s face.

***

At night he was plagued by sinful dreams. Peter, baring his neck and closing his eyes in ecstasy as Quentin touch him, smoothing hands over flawless skin. He could still feel the smooth skin, the slick wetness that leaked from his angel, the salty yet somehow sweet taste of Peter's essence. Every morning Quentin awoke in a mindless lust, using every strength he had not to touch himself and think of the previous night's dreams.

He prayed and prayed, and faced the day with a determination in his heart to remain pure. He was a vessel for the Lord, a man of God, and his body would not be tainted by the sinful lust.

Peter, of course, was none the wiser. Quentin's beautiful angel in his sweet innocence spent the days taking care of him and joining him in reading the Bible and discussing Quentin's struggles.

He told Peter that he struggled with pride. They spoke of humility and humbleness, and Quentin couldn't help but remark how much he admired Peter for his dedication and kindness.

"It's nothing," Peter said, looking distinctly embarrassed with adorably flushed cheeks. "It's cheesy, sure, but I just know in my heart that this is the right thing to do - that it was God who led me to find you. I don't know why - you know, God works in mysterious ways and all that," he added with a shy laugh. "This is my duty, somehow. And I think you feel it to."

Peter looked at him, eyes open and looking at Quentin like what Quentin said next would be marvelous and important - like Quentin was marvelous and important. His angel's pretty pink lips caught Quentin's attention and he felt breathless, needing those lips more than his next gulp of air.

Something ripe and delicious blossomed in his chest as Quentin moved his head closer. His hand reached out and touched his angel's cheek and everything was deliciously perfect. His hunger roared in his soul and when their lips touched, it was pure bliss.

Quentin cupped Peter's jaw, the kiss he gave merely skating the surface of the depths of his desire. Peter responded with a small contented hum and a need - a desperate filthy need - hit Quentin so suddenly that he moved back in shock.

His surprise was echoed in Peter's expression. A wave of guilt crashed over Quentin.

"I'm sorry."

Quentin got up immediately from his seat.

He walked without thought to his room and shut the door behind him.

This wasn't right. He prayed for guidance, for strength.

***

Peter forgave him easily. "It's fine," he said, "I know you didn't mean any harm, so, it's okay."

Quentin wasn't so easily contented. The touch of his angel's lips haunted him. Something was wrong - and Quentin's prayers weren't providing the answers he needed.

After deliberation, Quentin decided to see the pastor of his church.

He took the car, telling Peter he was going into town to buy groceries, ashamed of the true reason. Peter happily waved him off.

Quentin drove through the forest again. He glanced into the depths of the woods, how thick and endless they seemed. What Tony said came into his mind. Did someone live in there? Did Peter really live there?

No. Peter was an angel. If he lives there or not, Peter was the one who found him. Smiling, Quentin shook his head. He was letting Tony’s words trick him.

He pulled up into a car park. Modestly sized with stained glass windows and a bell on top, the white of the church matched the slight fluffs of cloud pasting over the blue of the sky. He exited the car and shut the door behind him with a soft thud.

Passing through the doorway of the church a cool sense of calm greeted him. He walked past the rows of pews and towards the altar. At the front a mousy-looking woman was putting out bibles for the evening service. Quentin forgot her name.

"Where's the pastor?" Quentin asked. "I need to see him."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You look well," she said.

"Yeah," Quentin agreed halfheartedly. He looked past her to the wide doorway.

"He's in his office."

Quentin thanked her.

He walked through and knocked on the door.

"Come in," came a well-spoken voice.

Quentin entered and closed the door behind him.

"Quentin! It's good to see you're well." The pastor got to his feet, offering his hand for Quentin. Quentin shook it and they both took seats, a desk between them.

"And to what do I owe this visit?"

Quentin's gaze fell on his own lap. With a determined countenance, he raised it. "I am struggling with...certain thoughts. And feelings."

"Like what?"

"Lustful thoughts."

"Do you feel tempted to act on them?"

Quentin paused. "Yes."

"But you haven't yet?"

"No. But I feel like I might."

The pastor considered Quentin thoughtfully. "The best way to avoid temptation is to keep it out of sight. Pray for strength. God will help you. But these sinful desires lay in you, and you alone must fight them. I do not know the details - and I won't ask for them - but is there a way to distance yourself from whatever you feel is tempting you? If it's a person, can you not find ways to limit being alone with them?"

Quentin gripped the chair. "No. This person is important to me."

He said it with such emphasis that the pastor looked surprised. He quickly smoothed over his expression. "Let me pray for you, then."

The pastor stood up and made his way around the desk. Quentin closed his eyes and felt a hand laid on his head.

"Dear God, give this man strength. Share with him your wisdom. Help him to stay on the right path, hear him when he calls upon you, and do not let him fall into sin. Amen."

Quentin murmured 'amen'. He opened his eyes and the pastor took away his hand.

"This someone," he said slowly, "be careful. There is something..." The pastor stopped, a deep frown forming on his forehead. He shook his head and his expression lightened. "Remember to pray. God is with you always."

"Thank you, pastor." Quentin got to his feet. They shook hands once more and Quentin took his leave.

On his way to the car he thought about the pastor's words. Be careful. There is something. He must have sensed that Peter was divine and that Quentin must take extra care around him. He nodded to himself. He felt a new strength within him.

***

Quentin found Peter in the lounge watching tv. Peter switched turned it to mute and turned around. His initial smile faded as his eyes searched Quentin's hands.

"Where are the groceries?" Peter asked with what Quentin thought might be an edge of suspicion.

"Didn't get them," Quentin said easily.

"Then where did you go?"

Quentin eyed Peter curiously. "Does it matter?"

"I don't know. You just seem to be hiding something," Peter accused.

Quentin frowned, incredulous at Peter. He sighed, relenting. "I went to church. That's all."

"Oh." Peter relaxed. He smiled gingerly. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I got like that. I just - I got worried. Can you forgive me?"

Quentin blinked. "Of course."

Peter rose to his feet. He hugged Quentin, his body warm against his, and Quentin could smell Peter's scent but he felt strong. His body wasn't responding. He was in control. Quentin wrapped his arms around his angel.

***

Quentin was strong enough now that even Peter's hand on his while they studied didn't distract him. The touch was platonic - it left no giddy rush, no unsettled thoughts, and no longer did he think about kissing Peter's lips. He didn't watch them as Peter spoke, or while he ate. He didn't see when Peter wet them, or worried them with his teeth. It didn't matter if Peter cuddled up to him when they watched tv, his head tilting up to look at Quentin.

It didn't matter - until it did.

Quentin was rubbing the back of Peter's neck, caressing the warm skin. His fingers reached up to his head and Peter made a few encouraging noises as Quentin lightly scratched his head. They were soft and adorable, making Quentin smile. Then he heard it.

"Quentin."

It was a breathless moan and it stopped Quentin in his tracks. He looked down at Peter, then at the bulge in his jeans. Quentin tried to move away but Peter caught his arm.

"Quentin, I -"

Quentin swallowed thickly. "Peter -"

"I haven't stopped thinking about it - about you. That day when you - when we..." he trailed off, gaze downwards.

"Me too," Quentin said before he could stop himself.

Peter's hand reached up to cradle Quentin's face. "Then..." He moved in. Quentin did his best - he really tried to get up and put distance between them, but his angel...His angel wanted him, his angel had been thinking about him, and it was just one kiss. Just one.

Their lips met in a delicate communion, almost hesitant. Peter pulled himself in closer and tilted his head, nipping at Quentin's bottom lip. It was cute - a shy way of asking for more, for something Peter, in his innocence, didn't know how to get. With a short smile Quentin's hand drifted to clasp at the side of Peter's face and moved his lips more insistently. Peter's breath hitched and Quentin took advantage, slipping his tongue into Peter's mouth. Peter trembled and moaned. A rush of heat passed through Quentin's body and a cloying need swallowed his senses. His hand slid to rub at Peter's thigh. His heart thumped in his chest as he rose it higher, knowing Peter was hard - maybe just as hopelessly overcome by desire as Quentin was for him.

The parted to breathe. Peter's eyes had darkened, his lips swollen red, and it wasn't enough.

"Quentin, we - we shouldn't," Peter mumbled.

"Let me just take care of you," Quentin replied. He palmed over Peter's erection, eliciting a shaky moan.

"Quentin," he moaned desperately, eyes pleading.

"Let me," Quentin said huskily. He unclasped Peter's belt, slipping the button and unzipping his jeans. His eyes flicked between Peter's face and his own hands, checking to see if Peter wanted him to stop. He didn't, and when Quentin delved his hand beneath Peter's boxers and felt Peter's cock for the first time, something akin to awe flooded through him. Pulling Peter's cock from its confines, having his hand loosely wrapped around the shaft, seeing his Peter lay his head back, letting loose such sweet sounds - it felt unreal.

Quentin toyed with Peter, trying to find the right technique that would make him come undone.

"You look so beautiful," Quentin whispered.

Peter keened a whine, bucking his hips up into Quentin's grasp. He bit his lip. "I feel empty."

"What?"

"I need you - inside me."

The words were more intoxicating to Quentin that any wine could ever be. He swallowed thickly. He wanted to - he craved to with every inch of his body - but he'd never actually done it - and this was Peter, this was his angel.

"Please Quentin," Peter murmured needily.

Quentin need to turn away. This had gone too far. Just walk away, just get to his feet and just keep walking -

Peter started shrugging off his jeans and his boxers. Quentin watched transfixed, caught in inaction. Peter tugged his shirt off and his body was perfect. Smooth, warm skin, moderately toned, hairless apart from a small hint trailing from below his belly button to where his cock stood erect. Quentin caught sight of precome glistening on the head.

Laying down on his back, Peter spread his legs and bent his knees until Quentin had clear sight of Peter’s puckered hole. Peter kept his eyes on Quentin as he dipped his hand down to touch himself with a single digit. Awkwardly circling the rim, Quentin couldn’t take his eyes away, Peter moaning Quentin’s name as he dipped the tip of his finger inside.

“Bedroom,” Quentin husked out.

Peter got to his feet and Quentin followed him. Once in the bedroom, Quentin stripped - first pulling off his shirt then working on his pants.

At last they stood naked together.

"You look amazing," Peter said in wonder, his fingers feeling the small amount of hair on Quentin's chest. Quentin was proud of his body - he took care of it, and even though he hadn't kept up his exercise lately he still looked reasonably muscular.

"You look amazing too," Quentin lowly stated. His hands snaked round to Peter's hips, and he brought him back in for a kiss. His hands moved lower to palm Peter's ass, sliding his hands over the smooth skin before clasping each cheek in his large hands. Peter pressed himself closer, their bodies almost flush against each other. Peter shifted his hips to rub his cock up against Quentin’s with a frustrated whine.Quentin broke the kiss.

“I need you,” Peter whispered, still moving his hips. Quentin’s hand moved and took hold of Peter’s cock, caressing it in a loose fist.

“I need you too,” Quentin whispered back with a sincerity that startled him.

“Please - in me.”

“On the bed.”

Peter separated himself and lay back on Quentin’s bed. Quentin was struck by his beauty and the open want etched onto his face, his body communicating clearly his desire for Quentin, and without any hesitation he climbed on top of him, kissing him, wanting to pay homage to his beautiful angel. He moved his kisses down to his neck, Peter letting out such soft, heavenly sighs as Quentin's lips explored further and further downwards. A simple brush over Peter’s nipples had Peter gasping and arching his back.

“Q-Quentin,” he stammered, impatience clear in his voice.

Quentin stopped and lifted Peter's legs so he bent his knees. It was unfamiliar territory. Quentin tentatively placed a finger at Peter's entrance, surprised as Peter let out a little moan. He knew he had to stretch him somehow, and he knew he needed something to ease. Quentin raised his head and saw thankfully a bottle of lotion.

"Tell me if anything hurts," Quentin said as he put lotion on his fingers and pushed his finger inside. It slid in easily, to his surprise, as did the second and third. He barely had to spend time stretching Peter at all. He'd always thought it'd take longer.

"A-are you going to put it in me now?" Peter asked, looking sweet and desperate, and Quentin couldn't deny him.

Quentin pressed his cock inside Peter with a deep groan, watching it sink into him. He had no idea it could feel this good, and Peter kept making sweet little whimpers and moans. Quentin gave an experimental thrust, not wanting to hurt his angel, and quickly picked up pace. He couldn't get enough of it. Nothing - _nothing_ \- had ever felt this good.

"It feels so good," Peter gasped. "You feel so good inside -" He moaned desperately, clinging to the sheets.

"You feel good too," Quentin replied, "so good, Peter. So - good -" he thrusted hard, getting deeper, until the entirety of his cock was buried inside Peter's ass. He was inside him - his angel, his beautiful angel -

He wanted to take his time and slowly bring himself to climax, but Peter felt so good on his cock - so tight and warm and perfect - that Quentin couldn’t stop himself rutting into Peter, wanting all Peter could give with a fierce hunger he had never felt before. Peter let loose small cries as Quentin grunted and groaned over him, chasing his pleasure.

It didn’t take long before he came with a shout, burying himself deep inside Peter and spilling all he had while the world faded to white from the intensity of his climax. Quentin took harsh heavy breaths as he came back down, closing his eyes try and get himself back together. When he opened them a dawning realisation stunned him. He withdrew from Peter and immediately flew from the bed.

Quentin stared in abject horror, Peter's bare body in front of him evidence of his horrific sin. He turned away and covered his eyes.

"What have I done?" he muttered in anguish.

He'd defiled an angel - an angel of the Lord. He'd laid with him, in sin, made a mockery of Peter's holiness, made him an object of his lust and his sin and he couldn't escape what he had done, not even with his eyes turned away.

Quentin fell to his knees. "God forgive me. Please, God forgive me." Tears welled in his eyes. "I have failed you God, given into my own selfish temptation, and Peter, an angel -"

Quentin finally looked up and over at his angel. His eyes widened at what he saw.

"An angel?" Peter repeated. A completely foreign expression had taken over his face. A derisive smirk played on Peter's lips where there previously there had only been loving smiles. "Oh, Quentin. I am far, far from an angel. Well, technically I used to be," he said, tilting his head. "But for all intents and purposes - no. No, I am not an angel."

Peter got to his feet, unphased by his own nakedness. "You, dear Quentin, have found yourself in bed with something entirely different."

Peter's closed his eyes and in opening them again Quentin mouth opened in shock, then terror. The whites of the boy's eyes had turned pitch black, and the irises to a blood-stained crimson. Behind him, shadows formed above his head in the shape of horns, and at his sides bleak imitations of wings, broken and tattered with holes.

Terror seized at Quentin's throat. He couldn't move. He blinked, and all was back to normal, and yet it could never be normal again.

And Peter still wore that impossibly hideous grin.

"You're...you're a demon," Quentin managed.

"Ding ding ding! He got it right on the head."

"But..." Quentin was speechless.

"But - but!" Peter imitated Quentin mockingly. "But I'm so nice. I'm so gentle and lovely. No, no. You're just easy, Quentin. How long did it take? Less than a month for me to get you. And oh Satan, was it good. Virgins are so delectable." He looked at Quentin like he was a fresh piece of meat, licking his lips. "How does it feel? It must have felt so good being inside pretty Peter. Moaning for you, because oh, Quentin," he faked moaned, "you feel so good."

Peter laughed cruelly.

"No," Quentin croaked out.

"No?"

"Don't - don't talk about -"

"How we fucked? How you gave away your virginity to the first pretty face that paid attention to you? Quentin, Quentin." Peter gave Quentin a pitying look. "Must be so hard. So, so hard being you."

Quentin turned away from the monster. "Please God. This is a nightmare. Just a nightmare. God, please deliver me from sin, please -"

"God," Peter scoffed. "You think he can save you now? Your soul is tarnished. Your soul is mine," he hissed.

Quentin broke down. He didn't want to believe it, but as he prayed and prayed in his mind he started to think God wasn't there. He had made such a big mistake. He'd let evil seduce him. True evil. Who could forgive him that? Who could take away such a heavy stain?

Peter clicked his fingers and Quentin found himself getting to his feet without his will, being pulled towards the demon. Peter grinned as he gently cradled the side of Quentin's face. Closing his eyes, Peter breathed in like he was taking in the most delicious scent in the world.

"Your come's dripping down my leg," Peter whispered. Quentin watched as Peter took some onto his fingers and brought it to his mouth, tasting it with relish. Quentin felt sick. "Don't you want to taste your sin? Don't you want to live deliciously?"

Quentin tried to refuse him but he had little fight to give. His spirit had died. He was alone, this monster had him and there was nothing he could do. Peter offered it and Quentin opened and tasted his own semen. He expected it to taste awful, but there was something there, something not so bad -

"See you in hell, Quentin," his demon said softly. Quentin felt hands on either side of his face. They forced his neck to one side and the last two things he heard was a loud bone-chilling snap and a hideous laugh before it all turned to black.


End file.
